


reconnaissance

by WingsOfTime



Series: ikael [23]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anxiety, Bed-sharing, Co-Parenting, Gen, Shadowbringers Spoilers, also the title is technically the french word but also bc. thancred is th, and its associated doubts, more important conversations on Beds, post shadowbringers, relationship discussion, u know what i'll s top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 04:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfTime/pseuds/WingsOfTime
Summary: Five years is a long time. People change, grow. Bonds strengthen, and they weaken. This is about all of that.





	reconnaissance

“As I’ve said, we just need to get the details of the new mark before we set off again.” Thancred glances around idly as they make their way through the residential area of the Crystarium. Ryne lags behind him, posture slumped in exhaustion, and Ikael walks behind her, craning his head as he stares at the apartment complex.

“Nearly everyone seems to have gone to bed, however, including the people with our information. So it can wait until the morning,” Thancred continues. He comes to a stop in front a door like any other, and Ryne stumbles into him. He steadies her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Ryne, do have the key to your apartment?” he asks. She nods.

“Yes, I…” Ryne’s reply is cut off by a yawn. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Thancred begins to retract his hand, notices Ikael’s glare, and pauses to ruffle her hair. “Run along, then. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Ryne nods, just as Ikael interrupts, “Actually, come around in a bell or so to Thancred's place, yeah? For supper.”

Ryne’s mouth opens in a small “o.” As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. Thancred looks absently surprised, as if the thought that they have not eaten for some time has escaped his mind.

Ikael bends down to give Ryne a quick hug before waving her off. She fumbles with the lock, and then wanders in with a tired slouch, quietly shutting the door.

“Forgetting _food_ , honestly, Thancred?” Ikael chides, playfully elbowing him. Thancred rolls his eyes, although his mouth lifts in a half-smile.

“My utmost apologies,” he drawls. He eyes Ikael as he begins to drift off in a random direction. “Where, pray tell, are you going? It’s the one right next to hers.”

Ikael squints at him. “I’ve never been to yours,” he defends as Thancred grins and unlocks his own apartment. He swiftly steps inside, not bothering to hold the door open. Ikael just barely manages to catch it.

“Smarmy prick,” he mutters in an undertone.

“Heard that!”

“Good!” Ikael calls back shrilly.

“ _Shut th' fuck up, th' baith o' ye! Am tryin’ tae kip_ ,” someone hollers from behind a wall.

Thancred's apartment looks nearly identical to Ryne’s, as far as Ikael can tell from his glance around. It is quite sparse, aside from the bare necessities, and the emptiness makes it seem larger than it probably is. There is a kitchenette tucked against the wall, some sort of aetheric heating unit opposite it, and two doors at the end of the room Ikael assumes leads to the bathroom and bedroom respectively.

“Quaint place,” Ikael comments as Thancred tugs his coat off. He drapes it over the back of one of the only two chairs in the room; a small wooden armchair placed haphazardly on a threadbare rug.

“I know, I know, yours is bigger than mine,” Thancred murmurs, rolling his shoulders. Ikael can just barely see the slant of his smile from where he’s standing.

“Oh, actually it’s about the same size!” Ikael says as he toes his boots off. “I have my own apartment now, you know. Near Gaill and Simeon’s. I wonder if I should…” He trails off.

Thancred glances at him. He’s begun the long process of unbuckling his armour. “What?”

Ikael looks at the ground, feeling not a little awkward. “Well, I-I just sort of… followed you in here without asking, didn’t I? But I can’t very well keep the little room at the Pendants forever. A-and I don’t really have anywhere to stay besides that, so…”

Thancred stares at him with a distinctly blank expression. Ikael flushes slightly. “S-so… I-I should probably get an apartment here too. Yeah?”

He shuffles his feet, feeling oddly embarrassed. Oh… he should start cooking something…

“You can stay with me,” Thancred suggests as if it is the most casual thing in the world. Ikael, already fussing around in the kitchenette, bangs his forehead on a cupboard. “I’ll have a second key made for you. Watch your head.”

“O-oh, I-I-I—this is—this is your apartment, and I wouldn’t want to impose.” Ikael licks his lips, not knowing whether or not he should turn around to see whatever face Thancred is making. After a moment of deliberation, he dares to peek. Thancred is staring directly at him, expression pleasantly neutral.

“Nonsense,” he says, getting up. “I barely stay here, anyways. It can be our apartment now.”

“U-umgh,” says Ikael.

“Well if that’s settled, I’ll steal the shower for a few minutes.” Thancred steps forward to clap him on the shoulder, then makes a face. “I feel like I have sand in places sand should never be in. Oh, and feel free to make a quick trip downstairs for ingredients, if you can find anyone who’s still up; I’ll pay the bill tomorrow.”

He trots off into what Ikael has rightly assumed is the bathroom. Ikael mumbles unintelligibly to himself, squeezes his ears nervously a few times, and then makes for the door.

~*~

“Do you want me to, uh, give you a haircut?” Ikael is stirring the pot of stew slowly.

Behind him, Thancred blinks once. “What?”

There; now he just has to cover it and let it sit for a few minutes. Ikael hopes Thancred keeps his word about paying the bill; spices and fresh vegetables in the middle of the night are not cheap. Ikael wipes his hands on a washcloth before going over to plop down in the loveseat across from him.

“Back home,” he clarifies. “I could cut your hair! Shave you, even. I’ve… never shaved before, but I’m certain it can’t be that hard!”

He smiles warmly, wiggling his ears. He is confident that he can figure it out.

“How about… no to the shaving,” Thancred says carefully. He has a wary sort of glint to his eye, although Ikael does not know why. “But alright to the haircut, I suppose. Just don’t muck it up.”

Ikael scoffs. Thancred quirks a smile at him.

“You are looking somewhat like a stray alley cat yourself,” he remarks, lounging back in his armchair. “Didn’t you say some time ago you wanted get your own hair cut? We can go tomorrow, if you’d like. I’d wager the Exarch will have quite the look on his face when he sees you all cleaned up.” He winks.

Ikael is stuck at the “stray alley cat” comment. His mouth opens, staying like that while he catches up to the rest of what Thancred is saying. “What?”

“He has quite the reaction to you, you know. Did you see his face when you called him by his name?” Thancred sounds amused. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone has a bit of a crush.”

“Thancred.” Ikael glances down, a crooked and somewhat tight smile on his face. “Come on. It wasn’t funny with Aymeric, and it isn’t funny now.”

“I was right about Aymeric,” Thancred says sagely. Ikael shoots him a look.

They are interrupted by a tentative knocking at the door. Ikael jumps up, hurrying to usher Ryne in.

“You’re just in time, darling,” he says with a smile as she peeks up at him. “Go have a seat, and I’ll serve us up.”

Ryne climbs onto the loveseat Ikael has just gotten up from. She glances around. “Oh, Ikael, there’s nowhere for you to sit!”

“I’ll sit on Thancred,” Ikael says dryly, ladling the lamb stew he has made into three little bowls. He really needs to go cutlery shopping. He wraps the first one in the washcloth and hands it to Ryne along with a spoon, then laughs a little at her expression. “Just kidding. Something he said once, is all. I’ll sit on the floor, Ryne. The rug doesn’t look too bad.”

Thancred is already getting up, but Ikael levels him with a look, and he eventually slumps back down, albeit with a pout and a huff. Ikael smiles to himself and serves him next, ducking down to give him a peck on the forehead.

“Oh wow, this is very good!” Ryne pipes up when Ikael has settled by Thancred's legs. She sounds surprised.

“Ikael is quite a gifted culinarian,” Thancred declares proudly before Ikael can reply. Ikael feels a hand pet his head before retracting. “Ask him to bake you a pie sometime; he has a knack for those.”

“O-oh, well. I do try my best.” Ikael clears his throat, embarrassed by the praise. He smiles at Ryne. “I’m glad you like the stew.”

“Yes, it looks sort of awful but it tastes really good!” she says through a mouthful. Ikael hears Thancred sputter above him.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ryne,” he tells her, although his tone is heavy with amusement.

For a moment Ikael feels detached, out of place here in this dynamic that exists solely without him. He ducks his head. He doesn’t really belong here with the two of them, does he? But best to shelve those thoughts until later, when he can deal with them alone. And maybe stress-bake.

He feels Thancred's hand on his head again all of a sudden, curling around his ears. It is enough to startle them into perking back up. Ryne’s voice comes to him half muffled when she asks, seemingly out of the blue, “So… are you two a couple? Or were you before?”

“U-uh, no,” Ikael stutters, caught off guard.

“Not in the sense that you mean, no,” Thancred replies, ever smooth where Ikael isn’t. His hand retreats, and Ikael immediately misses it. “But we have a special bond, I’d like to think.”

They do? “We do?” Ikael cranes his neck up.

Thancred shoots him an odd look. “Of course,” he says, sounding puzzled. “Why are you…”

He trails off as he studies Ikael’s expression, and something shifts in the back of his eyes. He glances back to Ryne. “We do,” he confirms, tone evening out once more. “In fact, there was this pair of Viis in Rak’tika who shared something similar…. We can go chat with them sometime if you’d like, and you can ask all of your questions. But finish your food now; it is getting cold.”

Ryne spoons up most of the stew and then starts to slurp at what is left, and Ikael is too endeared to mind the noise. He stands up when they have all finished, taking their dishes to the sink to wash them.

“When can we go visit Urianger?” he hears Ryne ask behind him. Thancred mutters something unflattering about faeries that makes him smile, but grudgingly tells her they can go soon.

“Goodnight, Ikael!” Ryne calls when he is elbow-deep in soap suds, and Ikael blinks up at her, surprised. Thancred and Ryne are standing by the door, apparently going to her apartment so that Thancred can kiss her goodnight and tuck her in and all of those lovely things Ikael _certainly hopes_ he will be doing. He smiles, wiggling his ears. “Goodnight, Ryne.”

They leave. Ikael lets his ears droop and quietly finishes up the washing.

That nasty little wrenching feeling of doubt has wormed its way into his chest again, and Ikael fancies he could really do without it, thank you very much. A year ago he would have gone to Thancred about it, but Thancred has been without him for some time, and maybe he doesn’t want to deal with Ikael’s silly little doubts that he has had relief from for five years. No, Ikael thinks, shaking his head at himself, certainly not. Ikael has firmly established that it is _his_ turn to take care of _Thancred_ now, and he really has tried his best, and now Thancred comes to him for hugs and niceness and all sorts of sweet things. And Ikael is very happy to provide them, because he cares for Thancred dearly and wants to see him happy.

That is it, he decides as he wipes his arms on the scratchy little washcloth. He’ll write in his… journal, or something, instead of going to Thancred. Mayhaps he should buy a diary.

Thancred is still not back yet, so Ikael rifles in his pack for his sleeping clothes. He pauses guiltily when he pulls out the ones he has brought—they used to be Thancred's old clothes, actually. He had almost forgotten. He wonders if Thancred has noticed. If so, does he mind? Does he want them back? Ach, hopefully not; Ikael has nothing else to sleep in.

He changes quickly, and then stands there awkwardly in the middle of the room wondering where he is to sleep. Oh no—did Thancred mean to kick him out after supper? Does he expect Ikael to be gone by now? Shite, Ikael has already dressed for bed…

He peeks into the bedroom, trepidation creeping up on him. Surely enough, there is only a single bed. Ikael glances back and sizes up the loveseat, ignoring his internal wince at how cramped it looks. Thancred had said… that he wants this to be Ikael’s apartment too—no, he hadn’t said that he _wants_ that, he only—o-oh, Ikael cannot remember—

He is interrupted from his ever-spiraling doubts by Thancred's arrival. Ikael’s head whips around, expression caught on something he is certain is very unflattering.

Thancred glances him over. “Oh, you’re already dressed,” he says as he slips off his boots. He himself had changed into something looser and thinner after his shower. He doesn’t reach for his pack, only walks into the bedroom with a light tread. Ikael watches him helplessly, feeling far too bumbling and awkward to ask about anything.

“What was that, earlier?” Thancred calls idly. Ikael has no choice but to follow him into the bedroom.

“What?” he asks distractedly. Thancred is already getting into bed. Where is Ikael supposed to…?

“With Ryne?” Thancred taps the bedside lamp out and glances at him. Ikael does not know whether being unable to see his expression in the darkness makes him feel better or worse. “You seemed troubled about something; is everything quite alright? Oh, close the door please.”

Ikael obeys confusedly. Where is he supposed to sleep? The _floor?_ There is too little space.

“Ikael?” Thancred does not sound impatient; more so idly curious.

“What?” Ikael repeats. He gives his head a quick shake. “Oh, sorry. Uh—right! No, it’s fine, Thancred. Um… I hate to ask, but, I-I. Where am—where am I supposed to sleep?”

Damned stutter. He clears his throat in a vain effort to make it go away, even though he knows it will not help.

Thancred's dim form doesn’t move for a few seconds. Ikael’s heartbeat spikes irrationally. Then he hears a tapping sound, and the night lamp flickers back to life.

Ikael keeps his gaze studiously fixed on the floor.

Thancred does not sound upset, or annoyed, or condescending. Instead, when he says, “Right here,” and pats the space next to him, he sounds quiet and a little concerned.

“O-oh.” Ikael tugs nervously at his ear. “But—it is—it is—your bed. Where will you sleep? You’ve already got—gotten in.”

He risks a glance up. Thancred is frowning at him a little, although it is a mild sort of expression.

“There is plenty of room for us to share,” he pronounces slowly. “I had thought…”

He trails off, and there is a pause. He says, “Do you not wish to?” in a muted voice.

“No! No, I do!” Ikael reassures him hurriedly, because _that_ makes guilt bottom out his stomach, and even though he is still confused he knows enough to feel like shite. “I-I-I just—I-I… I didn’t think you would—I didn’t know if I…”

Thancred is waiting for him to end his sentence instead of trying to help him. A change Ikael is not used to, but probably one that is for the best, although he does not like it right now. He fidgets restlessly, resisting the urge to hide his face in his hands to disappear. “… I-I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he finishes lamely.

“Why would I not want you to?” Thancred asks pointlessly. Ikael tamps down on the urge to cry, _I don’t know!_ and gives a clumsy, awkward little shrug.

“I-I should—I should—” Go. No—stay! It’s what Thancred wants. “U-um.” Ikael clambers onto the bed, avoiding eye contact. He slips under the covers and pulls them up to his chin, facing away from Thancred. “U-uh. Goodnight!”

“Ikael. Wait.” Thancred gently shakes him. What Ikael had previously identified as concern in his voice is growing stronger now, tipping it sideways. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why are you so nervous?”

“It’s just the—the way I am,” Ikael mumbles into the blankets.

“No it isn’t,” Thancred returns. “Is what is bothering you the same thing as earlier? Tell me and I will stop pestering you.”

Ikael’s ears flatten to his head. “You won’t like it,” he says in a horrid little voice.

Thancred's hand smooths out his hair, petting over his ears, and Ikael calms somewhat despite himself. “I don’t like seeing you this upset either.”

Ikael cringes. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes instinctively, voice thickening.

Thancred leans down to kiss him on the temple, and Ikael relaxes just that much more. “Don’t be; ‘tis not your fault. Now tell me what the problem is.”

Ikael draws in a shaky breath. Then another. Thancred's hand keeps up its steady motions, slowly soothing him.

“I-I just. Feel like I don’t belong,” Ikael finally admits in a small voice. “I-I don’t know what I'm doing with you. You and Ryne work so well without me. Why am I even here?”

It sounds so pathetic and childish when he says it out loud, especially that last sentence. Ikael closes his eyes, shying away from his own words. Stupid. He’s being stupid. He doesn’t know about what, but… he is.

“To cook?” Thancred suggests, completely inappropriate amusement flitting into his tone. Ikael flinches, throat closing up, and Thancred immediately backpedals. “Sorry—no—I didn’t mean that. Sorry. Oh no,” His voice pitches into dismay, “please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

Ikael squeezes his eyes shut tighter, willing his tears away. It doesn’t work.

“I’m so sorry. Shite. Here,” And Ikael feels the blanket lift to dap at his eyes. “I remember that it is best to wait until you calm down before saying anything. Does that still hold?”

Ikael shakes his head; all it is doing is making his doubts grow. Thancred mutters something under his breath. Ikael feels himself being pulled closer to him—and there is Thancred’s heartbeat, slightly unsteady but still solid in his chest. Ikael presses an ear to it instinctively, leaning in.

“Ikael, it… is true that Ryne and I have our own dynamic, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for you as well.” Thancred sounds relieved that Ikael has latched onto something to ground himself with. He moves his arm around him, holding him securely in a way that Ikael likes very much. “And you forget, my friend, that you and I have quite a rich history of our own. Ryne was rather envious of you at first, you know.”

This is news to him. Ikael blinks rapidly, clearing his warm vision. “What?” he croaks.

He feels Thancred move in what could be a nod. “Indeed. I went to you when I would not go to her, you knew much more about me than I ever told her, you seemed to magically understand my moods and what I needed…. There was, ah, a lot.” He sounds somewhat guilty. “She brought it up with me recently. I am still working on…” He flounders for a moment. “Speaking to her more openly,” he finishes.

“Emotionally stunted habits die hard,” Ikael mutters, light for a fleeting moment. He feels Thancred chuckle ruefully.

“Indeed,” he admits. “There, see? She would never feel comfortable enough to say something of that sort to me. And she does like you being around, Ikael. She looks up to you quite a bit, you know. It is reminiscent of Alisaie, although Ryne is less, ah…”

He delicately clears his throat. Ikael feels an unbidden smile tug at his heavy lips. “… Alisaie,” he mumbles.

Thancred huffs in amusement. “Yes,” he says. “But yes, Ikael; rest assured that we _do_ want you here. I did ask you, did I not? Besides, we get tired of each other sometimes, you know. A fresh perspective, although not necessarily a new one, can be welcome.”

“Urianger,” Ikael mumbles automatically.

“Ah. No.”

“You don’t want to cuddle with Urianger?” Ikael prods at Thancred's chest. “Why not?”

 _Ikael_ has cuddled with Urianger. He is actually quite lovely; such a gentle soul. And tall, too.

“… My desire to ‘cuddle’ with Urianger notwithstanding,” Thancred says in a tone that implies he is aware Ikael is mocking him, “It will be good to have you with us. As long as whenever you harbour any more doubts like these you talk it through with someone, alright?”

Ikael glances up, and Thancred is smiling at him faintly. He flushes, then nods.

“It does not have to be me,” Thancred continues. “Especially if you are cross because I burned breakfast instead of waiting for you to cook, or gave Ryne a bad haircut, or ‘stole your kill,’ or something of the sort.”

“Those are very specific examples,” says Ikael a little suspiciously. He can feel the quotation marks in the last one.

Thancred's lips press together in what could be a suppressed smile. “My _point_ is—”

“And how about you, Mr. Grumpypants R—Knifegun?” Ikael throws back. “I will not accept any more, ‘this will all work out eventually even if I do nothing, Ikael,’s, or ‘I don’t want to talk about my problems when I could just bury them, Ikael,’s. Not at Ryne’s expense, and _certainly_ not at your own.”

“ _Knifegun_ ,” Thancred repeats. 

Ikael pokes him repeatedly. “Okay, yes, fine! Fine. I am yours to be lectured.” Thancred sounds uncomfortable that the tables have turned. Too bad. “Happy?”

“And whenever you want a hug or a kiss on the cheek you ask for it instead of pretending like you are immune to wanting affection and desperately waiting for me to do it of my own volition,” Ikael continues.

“Yes, alright.” Thancred sounds somewhat flustered now. Ikael grins up at the pink in his cheeks.

“Now you don’t have to use your words,” he keeps going, pitching his voice to the reasonable tone he usually reserves for Alphinaud and other children. Thancred's hand comes up to cover his mouth. “Mmh!”

“That is quite enough from you.” Thancred shifts back down, reaching out to tap the nightlight out before settling under the covers. “Goodnight, Ikael. Shut up, please.”

He removes his hand, only to curl it loosely against Ikael’s chest. Ikael watches as he very pointedly closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, big spoon,” he returns, briefly pinning down Thancred's legs with his own so he cannot be kicked in immediate retaliation. When the danger has passed, he cranes his neck back and kisses Thancred on the nose.

“We can switch tomorrow,” he whispers loudly, and then rolls over before immediately falling asleep.

~*~


End file.
